


Just Another Manic Saturday

by anonymous_yet_again



Series: Day by Day [2]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: (light fluff really), Developing Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Talking About Relationships, not talking about relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25357795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_yet_again/pseuds/anonymous_yet_again
Summary: Four months after the case where Lassie was assaulted, and he and Shawn have been spending a whole lot of time together.  But dating?  That would be a step further, a whole other thing.  Or would it?  A story in which relationships are scary, Juliet is observant, Henry tells it like it is, Shawn and Lassie eat three square meals between the two of them, and Gus makes a lot of phone calls._____Set after “Blue Monday (and Tuesday, and…)”  You don’t need to read that 20k beast of a story necessarily, but it might help with context.  Summary of it in the notes inside, in case you’d prefer that.Title is based on “Just Another Manic Monday” by The Bangles.
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, Burton "Gus" Guster/Juliet O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter & Juliet O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer, Henry Spencer & Shawn Spencer
Series: Day by Day [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836364
Comments: 14
Kudos: 99





	Just Another Manic Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> CW: mentions of past sexual assault (in the summary below, and in the story itself).
> 
> In “Blue Monday (and Tuesday, and…)” Carlton starts out having already been sexually assaulted by a serial rapist who turns into a serial rapist/murderer. Shawn helps him catch the rapist and also not totally fall apart. He also recognizes that a) he kind of does like Lassie _like that_ and b) he chose a really bad time to figure this out. They sleep in the same bed. In the background, Gus and Jules start to gravitate together.
> 
> oh and also, this story is saved on my computer as “psych fic 2 electric boogaloo” because of course it is

“Got any big plans for Saturday?” asked O’Hara, leaning back from her desk and stretching.

“Therapy,” said Carlton drily. He saw her small, proud smile out of the corner of his eye, and suppressed his own. As helpful--and mandatory, at first--as this particular round of therapy had been so far, it had taken him a few months to be OK with mentioning it out loud, even to his partner.

“OK, but I meant anything _else_ ,” said O’Hara. “Are you doing anything, going anywhere? Seeing anyone?”

“Nah,” said Carlton, “watching _Cops_ reruns.” He paused, and then frowned a little. “And Spencer probably has another 80s movie or three that he wants me to see.”

“You said you aren’t seeing anyone,” O’Hara pointed out.

Carlton turned away from his computer to actually look at her for the first time in the discussion, with his eyebrows drawn together. “I’m not.”

“You _also_ just said Shawn is going to show you movies,” said O’Hara slowly.

Carlton frowned again, and then realized what she was saying. “Oh, well--Spencer. He isn’t anyone.”

He meant it dismissively, but O’Hara smiled even more widely. “That’s kind of sweet, you know.”

“What?” said Carlton.

“Never mind,” said O’Hara, but she was still smiling a little as she turned back to her own screen. “Finish your paperwork and you can go home to Shawn.”

“Spencer isn’t at my house,” said Carlton, but O’Hara didn’t say anything else, just kept smiling. “Fine.”

***

“Shawn, the Riviera is doing an _80s night_ tomorrow,” said Gus, as though Shawn maybe hadn’t heard him the first time.

“I heard you the first time,” said Shawn, pulling a bag of peach rings off of the convenience store shelf. “Does Lassie like peach things?”

“Why would I know, he’s _your_...friend,” said Gus.

“Gus, I’m surprised at you, I thought you considered Lassie to be at least a tap buddy, if not a friend,” said Shawn, putting the peach rings in his basket. “I think I’ll get the candied pineapple.”

“You always get the candied pineapple,” said Gus, trailing Shawn down the aisle. “Don’t forget the Red Vines,” he added, as if automatically.

“ _Why_ are you so intent in telling me about the 80s night at the Riviera?” asked Shawn finally when they reached the cash register. Gus had continued trailing him mutely and beseechingly through the store, but he hadn’t said anything else.

“It’s ‘intent _on_ ,’ and they’re showing literally every movie we’ve referenced in the last month,” said Gus. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, Shawn.”

Shawn frowned thoughtfully. “Can’t be. Remember, I called that lady who wanted revenge on all cops ‘Kissin’ Kate’ last Wednesday. _Holes_ didn’t come out in the 80s.”

“That’s a book, not a movie,” said Gus. “Come on, Shawn, what are you doing that you don’t want to go to the 80s night with me?”

“Oh, you’re trying to ask me to go with you?” said Shawn, grabbing his plastic bag of junk food supplies and heading out the door to walk with Gus back over the Psych office. “Why didn’t you just _say_ so, Gussie-poo? I can’t. I’m educating Lassie this Saturday.”

“Does Lassie know you’re educating him?” asked Gus.

“Of course,” said Shawn. “At least, I mentioned it in passing. He should know.” I’m at his house most weekends, he thought but didn’t add. Also a whole lot of week nights.

“Are you educating Lassie _on 80s movies_ , by chance?” said Gus. “Shawn, he could come to the 80s night _with_ us. I’ll even sit somewhere else, as long as you and I can quote them all afterwards.”

“Why would you sit somewhere else?” said Shawn. “And Lassie has a perfectly good TV. Plus I can talk over the movies a lot more when we aren’t in a theater.”

They’d reached the Psych office, but Gus stopped in front of the door and didn’t open it, which meant he had something serious that he wanted to say before he chickened out. “Shawn. Are you and Lassie dating? Because it seems like you have been for months, but you never say so.”

“I think dating would mean we go on actual dates,” said Shawn, trying to get past Gus and into the office. Gus didn’t budge. “C’mon, man, my Raisinets are melting. It’s hot out.”

“That’s your own fault for buying Raisinets,” said Gus. “Shawn, you’ve _been_ going on dates. You go to the station to eat lunch with him even when we don’t have cases. You watch movies with him on the weekend. You _sleep at his house_.”

Shawn didn’t say that literally sleeping together was as intimate as he and Lassie got. For one thing, it wasn’t really Gus’s business, and for another thing, literally sleeping together had turned out to be a lot more intimate than he had ever thought it was in the past. “Those are all things you and Juliet do,” he said.

“Juliet is my girlfriend,” said Gus.

“Oh, right,” said Shawn. “I keep forgetting.”

Gus gave him an unimpressed look. “We’ve been dating for four months. Look,” he added, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head, but I don’t _care_ if you and Lassie are in a relationship. It’s just--I can’t tell if you know either. Or care.”

“Of _course_ I care,” said Shawn. Then he forced his way past Gus, set down the bags in the air conditioned office--he really didn’t want those Raisinets melting--grabbed his helmet, and headed back out again.

***

Shawn was sitting on his motorcycle in front of Carlton’s house when Carlton pulled up. “I left the snacks at the Psych office,” was the first thing he said when Carlton got out of his car.

“I thought we were watching movies tomorrow,” said Carlton.

“We are,” said Shawn. “Unless you don’t want to. But I’m also here now.”

“OK,” said Carlton, and led the way up to his front door. “You didn’t break in,” he realized as Shawn waited for him to unlock it.

“I just got here,” said Shawn dismissively. “Plus, I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“When has that ever stopped you?” said Carlton, maybe a little unfairly. He moved through his house to the bedroom so that he could take off his suit jacket and gun holster. Shawn followed him and sat on the edge of the bed, still holding his helmet.

“Lassie,” he said, “do you think we’re in a relationship?”

Carlton paused halfway through undoing his tie. Something about Shawn’s tone suggested his answer to this question would be important, but frustratingly, and as usual, he couldn’t quite tell what Shawn was thinking. “A friendship is a type of relationship,” he offered.

“Very true,” said Shawn. “Although I need to tell you that Gus already occupies the best friend slot in my life, and he doesn’t share. Well, he probably does, but that would feel weird. If I had two best friends I’d feel like some kind of moron.”

“Moron?” said Carlton.

“You know, they live in Utah and have lots of wives,” said Shawn.

“Mormons,” said Carlton.

“I’ve heard it both ways,” said Shawn. Carlton, who had just turned to face his closet, mouthed it along with him. “But seriously,” Shawn went on, “Gus said we were dating--well, he asked. Do you think he’s right?”

Carlton remembered O’Hara’s smile when she called him “sweet” earlier. Had she and Guster been talking? About him and Shawn, that was, they presumably talked about other things all the time. “I--don’t know,” he finally said, honestly. “Do you--should we be?”

“Lassie, what we should do,” said Shawn, looking a bit relieved, maybe because they were both uncertain, “is order pizza and watch _Cops_. The more _Cops_ we watch tonight, the more movies I get to show you tomorrow.”

“Hang on, I never agreed to that,” said Carlton, pulling out his phone. “Is half pineapple OK? I’d rather not pick it off of all of my pieces this time.”

Saturday morning, Carlton’s alarm went off only half an hour later than it did on weekdays. He always scheduled his therapy appointments early enough on weekends that he didn’t have to go through the day thinking about them.

Shawn slept right through the alarm, a skill he had developed in the past few months. His arm was heavy across Carlton’s stomach. He had definitely drooled a bit on the sleeve of Carlton’s t-shirt. And Carlton could feel his morning wood on his own hip.

All of these were things that Carlton had gotten used to, morning wood included. Shawn never actually did or said anything about it; this morning, just like most other mornings, he woke up a little when Carlton started to move, and immediately released him and rolled over. This morning, though, Carlton couldn’t help thinking about it as he got up and started getting ready. Shawn had asked if they were in a relationship last night, and Carlton could admit, if only to himself, that they did a whole lot of the same things that couples did. He could even admit, _definitely_ only to himself, that he kind of liked the idea of being in a relationship with Shawn, even a more defined one. But what about the things that couples did that they _weren’t_ doing? Did Shawn want more? What if Shawn wanted to have sex? What if Carlton didn’t? His therapist said it had only been four months, to give himself time, and also that if he never wanted sex again he wouldn’t be any less of a person or a man. But Carlton wasn’t worried about what the world thought of him, or what his therapist thought. He just wanted to know what Shawn did.

Carlton always suited up for his therapy appointments. It helped him feel normal, or as normal as possible. He got dressed automatically and as usual, while his mind raced, but by the time he reached his last few shirt buttons, his hands were shaking so hard that he almost couldn’t get them fastened. At least he’d shaved already. He picked up his tie, and knew he wouldn’t be able to tie it. “Shawn,” he said gruffly.

Shawn rolled over to face him, somehow seeming to have gone from deeply asleep to cheerfully awake without any of the usual intervening stages. “Morning, Lassie,” he said with a grin. “Nice tie choice. Goes with your eyes.”

Carlton felt his ears get red as he glanced back down at the green and blue striped tie, but Shawn didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he bounced out of bed, took the tie gently out of Carlton’s still shaking hands, and tied it around his own neck. Then he loosened it, pulled it off, and slipped the loop over Carlton’s head.

“There you go,” he said, pulling the knot up and adjusting Carlton’s collar. “Can you get your belt?” It was a serious question. The first week or so that Carlton had been allowed back to work, he’d had days where he woke up shaking so badly that he couldn’t really work _any_ fastenings.

“Yeah,” said Carlton. Thinking about Shawn was at least partly what had made his hands shake. Interacting with Shawn was making them calm down. Maybe he would ask his therapist about it. “You can sleep for longer, if you want.”

“Thanks, but I kinda ran out on Gus yesterday,” said Shawn, “so I think I’ll take him out for breakfast to apologize.”

“When you say ‘take him out,’” said Carlton, “he’s going to be the one paying, isn’t he?”

“Well, he has the Psych company card,” said Shawn, grabbing his jeans off the floor and digging through them for his phone.

“That’s Guster’s personal card,” said Carlton. “You just call it the company card.”

“Semantics,” said Shawn, and hit “call.” “Hey, Gus!”

***

“We should take a friendcation,” said Shawn over a stack of pancakes.

Gus frowned around a mouthful of hash browns, then swallowed. “You don’t have to say ‘friendcation.’ You could just call it a vacation.”

“Gus, we’re friends. Two friends who should go on a vacation together. Ergot, friendcation.”

“You mean ‘ergo,’” said Gus. “Ergot is a type of mold with hallucinogenic properties.”

“Really? How do you know?” said Shawn, fascinated, and then refocused. “No, never mind, don’t try to distract me.”

“ _You’re_ the one who brought it up,” said Gus.

Shawn ignored him. “Where would you like to go? It’s almost summer, so a beach vacation would be classic, but I’m thinking we mix it up a little. What about the mountains?”

“There are beaches and mountains all around us,” said Gus. “We don’t really have to _go_ anywhere. Besides, I thought you had plans this weekend.”

“We don’t have to leave now,” said Shawn, “just soon. Take some time off from your side job--you must have vacation days saved up, right?”

“Well, Shawn, usually I _use_ my vacation days to run around doing whatever insane things _you_ get us into to solve cases,” said Gus. He took another bite and chewed, his face taking on a considering expression that Shawn didn’t like the look of. “Is this all because of what I said yesterday about you and Lassiter?”

Shawn took an extra big bite of pancakes as Gus finished talking, and then mumbled wordlessly around them, gesturing at his mouth. “Shawn, I know you did that to avoid answering,” said Gus. “You’re freaking out about commitment again, aren’t you?”

Shawn swallowed and sighed. The middle of a diner was not where he would have chosen to have this conversation. Actually, he wouldn’t have chosen to have it at all, but he should have known Gus would see through him. “Maybe a little,” he said.

“You didn’t even talk to Lassie about it, did you,” said Gus.

“I did,” said Shawn indignantly, and didn’t share how long--well, short--the conversation had been. “We...didn’t decide anything.”

The waitress chose that moment to come by, deposit their check, and say, “Take your time.” Shawn and Gus both looked at the check as she walked away.

“Someday, Shawn,” said Gus, reaching for his wallet, “you’re going to have to join the rest of us in the adult world. Adults have things like stable incomes, and solid romantic relationships.”

“I _am_ an adult,” said Shawn, and then realized how childish it had probably sounded. “Gus, you’ve known me forever. I was never going to be normal, even if I didn’t have Henry for a dad. Do you really want me going all boring and responsible? I probably wouldn’t go to 80s nights with you then, either.”

Gus’s expression softened a little. “I don’t want you to be _normal_ , Shawn, that was a lost cause a long time ago. I don’t think any of our friends are normal, actually. I also don’t want you boring, although there’s literally nothing wrong with being responsible. I just don’t want you to make yourself unhappy. Or Lassie, I guess, although you’re kind of my priority.”

“Aw, thanks, buddy, you’re my priority, too,” said Shawn. Still, he felt jittery, whether it was from thinking about commitment, eating maple syrup, or drinking every one of the free coffee refills. “I promise not to run away without telling you first,” he said. “But I gotta get going. Thanks for breakfast!”

“Shawn--” said Gus, but Shawn was already halfway out the diner door.

***

When Carlton turned on his phone after leaving his therapy session, he had a missed call from O’Hara. He called her back.

“Hey, partner,” she said, “I remembered you said you aren’t doing anything specific today. Do you want to grab lunch?”

“Sure,” said Carlton, who didn’t really feel like going home and picking up all the thoughts from the morning right where he’d left off. Then he paused, and looked at his phone suspiciously even though O’Hara couldn’t see him. “Have you been talking to Guster?”

“Carlton, we talk every day, we’re dating,” said O’Hara, which wasn’t actually what he’d meant. “How do you feel about Thai?”

Carlton sat across from O’Hara and picked at his pad Thai. O’Hara gave him one of her disconcertingly-good-detective looks. “How’ve you been?” she said.

“O’Hara,” said Carlton, “it’s been less than 24 hours since we last saw each other.”

“Yeah, but that was at work,” said O’Hara. “Now it’s the weekend. Life isn’t all about work, as much time as we spend there.”

Carlton sighed and took a bite, just to buy himself a little time. One of O’Hara’s personality traits was being friendly to the point of inquiring--prying, even, in Carlton’s opinion--into people’s personal lives. But the timing of this particular inquiry really could only mean one thing, and it was most likely connected to last night’s brief conversation, Shawn’s breakfast with Guster this morning, and the fact that Guster and O’Hara were, after all, in a relationship. “You _did_ talk to Guster,” he said.

O’Hara turned just a little pink, but she stared him down in a way that made him proud--or at least, it would have, if she’d been looking at a suspect instead of her own partner. “Of course I did,” she said. “And _you_ look like you’re freaking out right now, inwardly. I know how Shawn feels about commitment, but what’s going on with you? You stayed married to your ex for at least two years too long. Commitment is your thing, Carlton.”

Carlton’s first response was going to be something about Shawn always flaking out of things and running away, and having reasonable worries about that. But that wasn’t it, or not totally. It was more that if Shawn wanted to run away, Carlton wouldn’t blame him. “It’s...probably a bad idea,” he muttered.

“In what way?” said O’Hara. “Shawn’s been there for you at a level that I, honestly, would never have expected of him before now. And I know you two at least _like_ each other, I can’t eat lunch next to you both every day without realizing that.”

Carlton sighed, his appetite suddenly completely gone, and shoved his plate away from him. “I’m not going to spell it out for you, O’Hara. It’s not Shawn--Spencer, it’s me. I’m--I’m damaged goods, OK?”

Juliet smacked him. She did it relatively gently, and quickly enough that only the couple dining right next to them noticed, but it was still not what Carlton would have expected, and definitely not what they’d learned during the six hours total of training in the Academy on how to deal with victims of assault. He gaped at her.

“ _Carlton_ ,” said Juliet fiercely, “don’t be an _idiot_. First off, you should know how dumb that whole concept is, or didn’t you just come from therapy? Also, seriously, when have you ever seen Shawn do something that he doesn’t want to do?”

“All the time,” said Carlton. Juliet raised an eyebrow at him--hey, that was his move--and he went on reluctantly, “...right up until he can get out of it. And he’s always pretty loud about not wanting to do it in the first place.”

“Exactly,” said Juliet, looking satisfied. “Look, nothing is going to be easy or perfect. Especially not with Shawn. But you can’t decide for him whether he wants to be with you. If he decides he _doesn’t_ want to, you’ll know. And he hasn’t yet. Eat your lunch.”

Carlton grumbled, pulled his plate back towards him, and resumed picking. “Besides,” added Juliet, “you guys are cute together.”

Luckily, Carlton hadn’t yet taken a bite of his food, because if he had, he’d have choked on it.

***

Shawn pulled up in front of his childhood home. If it had been winter, it would have been dark already, but the days were getting longer and there was still plenty of daylight left for him to ride around aimlessly on his motorcycle, like he’d been doing all day, without even turning on his headlights. It was tempting to do just that. Instead he sighed, parked the bike, and headed for the front door.

Henry was in the kitchen, just starting to cook dinner, which reminded Shawn that he’d skipped lunch. “Hey, kid,” he said, not sounding surprised at all.

“Gus called you,” said Shawn. He almost put a finger to his eyebrow as he said it, and then remembered who he was talking to.

“Yeah, five hours ago,” said Henry. “But I didn’t expect you any time soon. Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you’re here.”

“Yeah, well,” said Shawn. “Smells good.”

Henry looked up at him, rolled his eyes a little, went to the fridge, and pulled out another steak. “You can make yourself useful by peeling the potatoes,” he said. Shawn sighed and complied.

“So what’s the whole deal, then?” said Henry eventually, once things were mostly cooking and they didn’t have anything to occupy their hands any more. He pulled out two beers and handed one to Shawn. “You’re upset because you and Lassiter--what, might like each other?”

“We kind of already do like each other,” said Shawn. He hadn’t exactly announced to Henry that he’d been spending so much time with Lassie in the past few months, but he hadn’t tried to hide it either, and Henry had his own sources in the SBPD. “But does that mean we should be dating, now? Are we supposed to start something more?”

“What’s wrong with it if you do?” said Henry, and Shawn almost laughed because as perceptive as he was, he would never have predicted ten years ago--or, hell, ten months ago--that he would be standing in his dad’s kitchen drinking beer while Henry encouraged him to enter a gay relationship. “Seriously, Shawn,” said Henry, putting down the beer and going to do something with the food on the stove, “I know your mom and I weren’t always a great example of it, but there’s nothing wrong with being in a relationship. Grab some plates, this is ready.”

“I’m terrible at commitment,” said Shawn, once they were sitting down and eating. “Look at every past relationship I’ve had. I’m worried I’ll mess it up, which is not just a selfless worry, because what happens is that I commit and then I get bored, and unhappy, until my options are to be miserable, or run away.” He shoved a forkful of steak into his mouth to stop himself talking, and shrugged.

Henry looked unimpressed. “That’s an exaggeration. Look at you and Gus--you’ve stuck with each other through pretty much everything. You’ve stuck with your stupid psychic detective gig for longer than I ever thought you would. And hey, you and I have had our ups and downs, but our relationship isn’t finished.”

“OK, but that’s all _other_ types of relationships,” said Shawn. “This is a romance--well, potentially. What does that even look like? My longest romantic relationship to date was with Jules, and that lasted less than two months.”

“Let me think,” said Henry sarcastically. “A romance? Well, you eat meals together, and hang out when you aren’t required to. You check in on each other, and care about each other. And you probably enjoy a little physical affection now and then.”

“That...is all things Lassie and I already do,” said Shawn. He narrowed his eyes. “Just how long did you talk to Gus, earlier?”

“Then I hate to break it to you, Shawn, but it sounds like you’re _already in_ a relationship,” said Henry. They’d been eating during the discussion, and now Henry used his last piece of steak to wipe off his plate, then ate it too. He got up and grabbed his plate and empty beer bottle. “Now the only question is if you can accept that or not.”

“Wait--Dad,” said Shawn, but Henry was already in the kitchen. He finished his own food and waited until Henry came back into the room. “It can’t be that simple.”

“Sometimes it is,” said Henry, and then softened a little and flicked Shawn--gently--on the forehead. “You’re overthinking, kid. Do you like what you have now? Keep it up. The details are up to you and Lassiter.” He paused in the middle of grabbing Shawn’s clean plate, and said, “Please _keep_ them between you and Lassiter. I really don’t want to know _any_ of the details.”

***

It was probably past time to eat some dinner, but Carlton wasn’t hungry, and he somehow also didn’t feel like watching any more _Cops_. Shawn had left his DVD of _The Breakfast Club_ behind two weeks ago, and Carlton stuck it in the DVD player and then lay down on his couch and tried to ignore how much room he had. He was used to another adult man taking up space, especially when an 80s movie was playing.

Shawn hadn’t seemed that scared off, yesterday, and he also had said something about furthering Carlton’s 80s education that evening before he’d left to meet Guster for breakfast. But now it was just starting to get dark and Carlton was suddenly wondering. On the one hand, he liked to think that Shawn would send him some kind of message before leaving town or doing something drastic like that. On the other hand, he wondered if Shawn would figure that leaving _was_ a message. He blinked, and realized that he’d missed the last few minutes of dialogue. He tried to decide whether it was worth going back, but before he could, there was a familiar shave-and-a-haircut knock on his door.

“Hi,” said Shawn, when Carlton opened the door. He glanced at the TV, and then back at Carlton. “Aw, you started without me! But I, uh, kind of changed my plans for your education this evening.” Carlton would definitely have started spiraling with _that_ open-ended statement if Shawn hadn’t immediately held up a “Best of David Bowie” CD case, and said, “Can I drive your car?”

Ten minutes later, Shawn was driving Carlton’s car with one hand and singing along to “Starman” surprisingly coherently, considering that the song had actually come out in the 70s. The windows were open, because Shawn had said they had to be, and to keep his eyes from watering in the wind, Carlton turned away from his window and watched Shawn, tracing his profile with his eyes. Shawn’s nose, Carlton decided, was an almost perfect triangle from the side, but it was hard to pin down any of the rest of his facial features because they were almost always moving. “Starman” finished and went to “Heroes,” and Shawn stopped singing and made a turn.

“It helps me think,” he said, and Carlton realized that he’d been paying such close attention to Shawn that he didn’t know where they were.

“What?” said Carlton.

“Sometimes if I go really fast, I feel like it can just blow away my feelings,” said Shawn. He paused long enough to pull over and park at the end of what seemed to be a dead end road. “It never works for long, but it’s nice for a bit. Want to get out?”

They got out, and sat on the hood. Shawn had driven to 1000 Steps Beach, meaning that next to the car was a sign saying “1000 Steps Beach” and a very long stairway--presumably 1000 steps long--going down to the ocean. In front of them was the bluff, and eventually, the ocean. There was a fence in between, which made the public safety minded part of Carlton--a large part of him--feel better. It was quiet without the David Bowie playing.

“Relationships are scary,” said Shawn, and Carlton wondered when he’d become the more mature, willing to talk one of them. Well, he was always willing to talk about _something_ , but it was usually something inane and/or ridiculous. “I don’t know why, but they are. Maybe it’s because some of your happiness is tied up in another person.”

Carlton thought of O’Hara slapping him over lunch, but he couldn’t help himself. “Shawn,” he said, “you don’t have to--”

“Shh,” said Shawn, and put a finger over Carlton’s mouth. Carlton shh’d. “I’ve only got about two more minutes of serious talk in me before my brain reverts to references, so let me get it all out. You know I’m bad at commitment. I don’t know why--well, I have theories, maybe _I_ should try therapy some time--but I am. I’m scared of relationships because I don’t really know what a good relationship looks like, and I think it might be something boring or dumb. Or at least, I _thought_ that. But Gus and Dad both kind of pointed out that what we’re doing is...pretty much already a relationship. And I’m not bored. I like it. I like _you_. And I’m still going to have days that I want to ride around, and maybe even away, on my bike, to try to get away from my feelings. But sometimes I’ll want to take the car, and bring you with.”

Shawn had taken his finger away as soon as Carlton stopped talking, but Carlton could still feel it on his lips. “ _Shawn_ ,” he said.

“That’s it, that’s what I had to say,” said Shawn. “Your turn, if you want. Or we can just enjoy this nice sea breeze.”

There was a breeze, but it was going towards the water. Carlton didn’t point this out. Instead he covered his face with his hands so that he didn’t have to see Shawn’s eyes glinting in the light from the nearest streetlamp. “Shawn,” he said again, “I like this too. But what if--I don’t know, what if this is all we have?”

“Well, it won’t be, because that’s not how time works,” said Shawn, “We’ll keep going; temporally, I mean. Like, tomorrow, we’ll also have tonight, and then after that, we’ll have tomorrow. But you don’t mean time-wise, do you?”

Carlton tried to wrap his brain around what Shawn had just said. “No, I don’t,” he said eventually, because he’d at least understood the question.

“Carlton,” said Shawn, and took hold of his wrists, gently. Carlton let Shawn pull his hands off of his face and look him seriously in the eyes. “Dude, I can just watch porn or something to get off. It’s fine if we never have sex. I mean, I think you’re hot, but I’m content with snuggling on the couch and sleeping in the same bed. I want to be with you, Carlton, and I want you to be happy. Those things have to go together, otherwise it won’t work. I don’t want anything that you don’t want.”

“That was...romantic,” said Carlton. “Except the porn part.”

“Give me time, I’m still figuring out this long-term romance thing,” said Shawn. “Hey, I’m going to ask you if you want things, and you’re allowed to say no.”

“...OK,” said Carlton.

“Do you want me to put my arm around you?” said Shawn.

“Yeah,” said Carlton.

Shawn put an arm around him. Carlton scooched closer on the hood, put his own arm around Shawn’s waist, and leaned his head on his shoulder. This involved a certain amount of slumping, since he was taller than Shawn, but he didn’t mind.

“Hey, Carlton,” said Shawn, against the crown of Carlton’s head. This was the third time he’d used Carlton’s actual name in as many minutes, meaning he was still at least a little in serious-talk mode.

“Yeah,” said Carlton.

“Do you want to kiss?” said Shawn. “God, I know that was a weird way to say it, this is awkward, don’t forget you can say no, but--”

“Yes,” said Carlton.

**Author's Note:**

> The Riviera is a real cinema but I don’t think it does 80s nights. 1000 Steps Beach is a real beach, the concept of which really amused me. I discovered both on Google maps.
> 
> Driving at night with the windows open while listening to David Bowie is also real, and so is having deep conversations while on a bluff overlooking a body of water. I discovered those through experience.


End file.
